


Good To Me

by Mochapup12



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: A little bit of angst, But mostly fluff, F/M, Fighting, Sickfic, custom hawke (but not described and no first name used), da2 companions are one big family, fenris is sick and bad at communication, rated for brief descriptions of violence, with a side helping of Exploring Feelings at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochapup12/pseuds/Mochapup12
Summary: Fenris is sick, Hawke is exasperated, both of them are bad at communication and feelings, and Merrill and Varric just want their friends to stop doing stupid shit, please.Or,The fenhawke sickfic where Fenris is too stubborn to tell anyone he's sick until it causes problems (because honestly, that's just who he is as a person.)





	Good To Me

**Author's Note:**

> i wanna preface this by saying that i wrote it mainly as a coping mechanism because i'm a little sick right now and couldn't sleep last night for coughing, so i started this about my favorite da2 romance and my new custom hawke early this morning and it wound up being much longer than i planned (isn't that always how it goes?) it's not beta read, was written on 0 (zero) sleep, and was originally only supposed to be a short drabble, so bear all of that in mind. warnings for brief non-graphic descriptions of violence and non-graphic descriptions of a sick character. enjoy!

It starts with a cough.  It’s nothing too worrying, not at first, just something that Hawke notices during their travels through Lowtown.  Every so often, Fenris will cough a few times and then try to clear his throat, discreet and not frequent enough to draw much attention.  After a few days, however, it starts to get worse.  Isolated incidents become coughing fits that rattle in his lungs and wrack his whole body.  At one point Merrill asks him if he’s alright, offering to make him an old Dalish cold remedy - completely without the aid of magic, she adds hastily.  He brushes her off with a terse “no” and an odd set to his shoulders as he walks away.

 

Hawke has grown used to Fenris guarding her back in battle.  He’s dependable, following up her swift dagger strikes with his enormous broadsword, clearing out enemies that she’s already injured and killing those that would retaliate before they can get close enough to try.  At this point, she no longer stops to check whether or not he’s behind her.  She already knows.

 

So it comes as a bit of a surprise when she turns mid-fight just in time for a longsword to whistle past her nose.  She leaps back, then readies herself and lunges forward to take out the bandit before he can recover from the missed swing.  He goes down easily, and she’s already moving again by the time his body hits the ground.  As her blades sink into the next target, she’s dimly aware of Varric yelling Fenris’s name from somewhere off to her left.  As the latest bandit falls by her hand, she turns to look back and panic blooms in her chest.

 

Her first thought is that he’s injured.  He’s hunched over, kneeling on the ground, his sword lying abandoned in the dust next to him.  He’s shaking - she can see it even from a distance.

 

“Merrill, Varric!  Keep those last two occupied!” she yells, already racing towards him.  Merrill nods and runs past her to join Varric, dispatching the last two bandits as she drops to her knees next to Fenris, hands hovering anxiously over him as she tries to find a wound.  There’s no blood, no gaps in his armor, but he looks up at her and her heart stutters at the glassy, unfocused look in his eyes.  She’s never seen him like this before.  Fenris, ever the hunter and the hunted, always so alert, so on edge, always like a overly tight bowstring ready to snap, looks like he’s about to pass out.

 

“Fenris, what’s wrong?  What happened?” she asks, laying a careful hand on his shoulder as Merrill and Varric rejoin them.  He shakes his head, staring down at the ground again, the spiked fingers of his gauntlets digging into the packed earth beneath them.

 

“I don’t-” he starts, only for another coughing fit to tear through his body so harshly that Hawke is half afraid she’ll start to see blood.  Merrill’s worried gaze meets hers over Fenris’s back, and Varric speaks up in an uncharacteristically serious voice.

 

“Fenris, are you sick?”  he asks.  Fenris looks up at him, eyes narrowing but not with malice, seeming instead like he’s trying and failing to focus on Varric.

 

“I don’t know,” he manages, his voice rougher than she’s ever heard it.  “I was… ready to fight, but then… I was so dizzy that I couldn’t stand.  I don’t… I can recall only a handful of times when I’ve been sick, and I have never felt like this.”  He sounds confused, and Hawke almost thinks she can detect a current of fear deep in his voice.

 

“You’re not hurt though, are you?” she asks, concern coloring her tone.  Fenris shakes his head.

 

“No, I- I don’t believe so.” he replies after a moment.  Immediately, Hawke feels lighter.  Sickness, she knows how to deal with.  Bethany had been sick often as a child, and she had always helped to take care of her.  Injuries, especially the kind that would have a warrior like Fenris collapsed on the ground, are another matter entirely.

 

“Can you stand?  We’ve got to get you home.” she says, moving to crouch next to him in case he needs support.  He nods, accepting the hand she holds out and hauling himself to his feet.  For a moment, he sways dangerously, closing his eyes and pressing his palm against his forehead with a low groan.  She grabs his shoulder to steady him, wincing guiltily when his lyrium brands flash blue for a moment at the unexpected touch.  Over time, he’s become more amenable to physical contact, but he’s still easily startled if he isn’t expecting it.

 

Merrill squeaks, darting around to Fenris’s other side.  She doesn’t touch him, but stands ready with fear in her eyes.  When he’s managed to get his footing, she shares a meaningful glance with Hawke.

 

“We should really take him to a healer.  Maybe Anders!  Oh, Anders would know what to do!” she says, a tremor in her usually bright voice betraying her worry.

 

“Absolutely not,”  Fenris snarls, glaring at her.  “Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t need that mage’s help.  I’ll be fine, I’m just not in any condition to fight right now.  I’m… sorry, Hawke.  I didn’t realize that it had gotten this bad.”

 

“Fen, what are you apologizing for?  You should take better care of yourself, but everyone gets sick once in a while.  This isn’t your fault, and no one blames you for not being able to fight.  We’ve all been there before.”  Hawke says, ducking under his arm so that it lays across her shoulders, allowing him to lean some of his weight on her.  She’s a little surprised when he actually does - he’s normally so adamant about supporting himself that she’d honestly expected some resistance.  It’s really starting to worry her.  This isn’t like him at all.

 

She turns to face him, reaching her free hand up towards his forehead and stopping just before she makes contact.  She almost doesn’t need to - she can already feel the heat radiating off his skin, even more so than the usual extra warmth generated by the lyrium brands.  “Can I?  I just want to see if you’re running a fever.  That would explain all of… this.” she murmurs.  He nods, closing his eyes again when she presses her palm to his skin, damp with sweat.  She very nearly snatches her hand away the moment she does.

 

“Fuck, Fenris, you’re burning up.  We’ve got to get you home, fevers this high can be dangerous.”  Were he in better shape, she imagines he would have some quip ready about her turning into a mother hen the moment any of her chicks fell even slightly ill.  It’s a testament to how sick he must really be that he says nothing, just leans against her as they start to make their way slowly back along the road to Hightown.

 

 

~

 

 

It takes a while, but the four of them eventually make it back to Fenris’s mansion.  Hawke had briefly considered telling him that he was perfectly welcome to stay at the estate with her until he felt better, but had decided against it; he would only feel uncomfortable, being somewhere unfamiliar and full of other people on top of already being sick.  So she makes the trek to Hightown, and no one says anything.  They all know it’s better for him this way.

 

Merrill and Varric walk with them to the front door, making sure that they both get in safely.  Hawke turns back to thank them for their help - this wasn’t quite what she had expected from today’s mission - and finds that she doesn’t have the right words.  Both of them look just as concerned as she herself is.  This shouldn’t surprise her, really, they’ve all been working together for years now.  Still, she finds herself wondering exactly when their little group of ragtag misfits had become a family with this kind of dedication to one another.  Perhaps it’s always been there.

 

In the end, she sends a distraught-looking Merrill a reassuring smile and nods to Varric.

 

“Thank you both.  I’ll stay here for a while to look after him.  Maker knows what kind of trouble he’d get himself into in a state like this without someone here to stop him. I’m sure he’ll be fine, but I’ll send word if anything changes.”  she says.  Varric smiles, reaching up to put a hand on Merrill’s shoulder.

 

“I think that’s our cue to scram, Daisy.  Don’t you worry, Broody’ll be fine so long as he’s got Hawke watching him.  He’s tough, and she’s even tougher.”  he says gently.  Merrill laughs slightly, finally seeming to relax a bit, and allows Varric to lead her back in the direction of Lowtown.  Hawke stands in the doorway for a moment, watching them go before turning back into the mansion.

 

Fenris had walked farther in by himself, and she makes her way to his room with a bit of trepidation.  If he’d fallen again…

 

Her fears, it turns out, are unfounded.  Fenris has made it to a low couch in front of his fireplace before collapsing, armor still on and limbs drawn in close, curling in on himself like he can’t get warm.  Hawke sighs a little at the sight of him.  She’s never seen behavior anything like this from him before, and quite frankly, it scares her.  Fenris has always seemed to be the type of person to keep pushing himself forward, no matter what, so to see him so vulnerable and pliant is unnerving, to say the least.

 

Hawke walks around the side of the couch and sits down next to him.  His ears twitch slightly, but he gives no other indication that he’s noticed her and continues to stare blankly into the coals left over from the last time he’d been home.  Her heart clenches in her chest at how miserable he looks, his face pale and dark circles visible beneath his eyes.  A thin sheen of sweat is visible over the exposed parts of his skin, and he’s still shivering ever so slightly.  Slowly, slowly, she reaches out a hand and runs it gently through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead so that it no longer sticks to his skin.  He doesn’t flinch, but she’s unsure if it’s because he saw it coming or if he’s simply too tired to be surprised.

 

“Fenris.” she says his name softly, barely above a whisper.  His eyes flicker up to regard her, hazy with exhaustion and more open than she’s ever seen.  “You need to get out of that armor and get some proper sleep.  Food would be helpful, too, but first of all, you need a bath.  You’ve still got blood on you.”

 

“I didn’t even fight, and yet I’m still covered in it.”  His response surprises her, a low rasp of a thing that seems to be trying for a lighthearted tone, only to miss the mark and come off as defeated.  Hawke sighs.

 

“Fenris, it’s fine.  I’m more concerned with the fact that I showed up this morning to ask you to come out with us and you agreed without even hesitating.  You had to know you were sick.  Why didn’t you say anything?  You know that I never would have asked if I’d known.”  she says, trying to keep her voice soft despite the irritation that flashes through her.  She’d known that he was stubborn, of course, but this…

 

Fenris just shakes his head slightly, breaking into another coughing fit that has his whole body shaking from the force of it.  Sighing again, she sits with him until it subsides, leaving him curled into an even tighter ball.

 

“Look, it doesn’t matter.  Right now, you need focus on getting better.  I’m going to run you a bath, try to get your armor off in the meantime if you can.  Then while you’re getting cleaned up, I’ll see if I can’t find you something to eat.  You’re not vomiting, so that’s a good sign, and you need to keep your strength up.”  She’s half talking to him, half going through a mental checklist of everything that she’d used to do for Bethany.  As she stands up to go get the bath started, she hears him speak again, so quiet that she almost misses it.

 

“You’ve always been too good to me, Hawke.”  he says.  There’s a rawness to his voice that she’s never heard from him before, an emotional depth that shocks her for a moment and reminds her just how enamored she is with him.  They’ve never done anything beyond harmless flirting, but after spending so much time around him for several years now, she can admit to herself that she’s a little bit in love with him.  Ever since that dramatic first meeting, Fenris has been a constant source of wonder in her life - at first, she’d simply been curious about his abilities and sympathetic to the plight of an escaped slave, but at some point he’d become such a crucial fixture in her life that she can’t imagine him not being there.  They still haven’t talked about any of the flirting, but as his tired gaze meets hers she feels her heart miss a beat and resolves to do exactly that.  Not now, though - this isn’t the time.  Right now he needs her help.

 

“And you’ve been nothing but good to me since I met you, contrary to whatever you might think.  I’ll always be here for you, Fenris.  Never forget that.”  she says.  He looks away, and she imagines she can see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks in the dim light of the room.  She smiles slightly to herself as she turns to start his bath.  She’d meant every word of it and so much more - but it would have to do for now.

**Author's Note:**

> fenris is the single most stubborn person in thedas i swear
> 
> if you made it this far, thanks for reading! the plot was originally gonna be different and i was going to include a little more after the last scene, but it seemed like a good place to end. please leave a comment if you liked it or hated it or felt anything about it in general, i need validation to feel like a competent writer <3
> 
> also, i have a brand new dragon-age-themed sideblog on tumblr @shadow-kid-cole where i mainly reblog but will sometimes post about my ocs or do little drabble requests! feel free to follow me and yell with me about anything da related
> 
> thanks again for reading!


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